


Enough

by LoveChilde



Series: White Collar series [1]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Discipline, El's smarter than both of them, Friendship, Gen, Lies, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Neal can't help himself, Secrets, Spanking, peter worries too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 09:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5123321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveChilde/pseuds/LoveChilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's had enough of Neal crossing lines and pushing limits and getting off without consequences, and decides to deal out some consequences of his own, privately - but has he bitten off more than he can chew? Set in late season 3. </p><p>(Contains consensual, non-sexual discipline of an adult, mild references to past behavior that wasn't quite SSC and canon-typical violence.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enough

**Author's Note:**

> None of them are mine, more's the pity. Everlasting gratitude to Lea, for brainstorming assistance.
> 
> I tried to set this in season 1 and Peter-in-my-head refused to even think about it because he didn't know Neal enough yet to feel safe doing it...And putting it in season 3 resulted in a much longer story than I'd expected.

"At some point you'll need to learn that there are consequences. You can't just skate out of trouble every time." Peter was tired and exasperated, more than angry. They were in Peter's office, late in the evening after closing a long, hard and frustrating case- a case where Neal had once again skirted the edge of the law, pulled a handful of unsanctioned cons, and only just managed to avoid getting caught by either the target's goons or the FBI through luck, his own damned cleverness and some covering from Peter. "You push things again and again, and you never learn, do you?"

"Of course I learn," Neal gave him an infuriating bright smile, "I get better at it all the time." 

"The attitude isn't helping, mister," Peter held up a hand, just to shut him up. "What you do is get yourself into trouble all the time, and I'm left to cover for you." He slapped the hand he'd raised down on the table for emphasis, and Neal flinched at the noise. Peter knew Neal wasn't nearly as calm as he seemed; cases where guns were pulled and pointed at him always rattled him a bit, and today was no different. Neal didn't like violence. "You've been burned before, I just don't understand why you keep taking these risks- do you _want_ to go back to prison? 'Cause that can be arranged, I can have you back in Supermax tomorrow if you like." 

"I know." Neal wasn't smiling anymore, but didn't look too worried, either.

"I know you know. Do you want it to happen?"

"You know I don't." 

"You're right, I know you don't," Peter agreed. He did know it, and besides, Neal took pride in never lying to him directly. He still had countless creative ways to hide the truth, as he thought necessary, without telling an outright lie. "I don't really want to put you back there, and I suspect you know that as well." Neal conceded the point with a tilt of his head, and Peter continued, "I have other official ways to control you- house arrest, curfew, reduce your radius, limit your access to perks- I could get official approval for any of those with very few questions asked. If I thought any of it would help in the long run I'd do it in a heartbeat." But being limited or confined would just drive Neal to act up out of boredom, which would be counterproductive. Neal, sensing a reaction of some kind was expected, shrugged elegantly. 

"If it makes you feel better, you could do all those things, yeah." 

"I'm not doing this to make myself feel better, Neal, I'm doing this to keep you safe- and myself," Peter explained with what he thought was remarkable patience, under the circumstances. "If you screw up badly enough to get sent back to prison again, I'll probably get caught in the backdraft - again." It had been bad enough after Kate and the plane, after Adler, "I have tools, and I have orders to employ those tools to control my CI, before he gets us into more trouble than we can get out of again. Do you understand?" 

"Yeah," Again, Neal seemed quite sincere, "You know I'm not trying to get you in trouble. If I wanted that I'd involve you more often." Sincere, yet still deflecting with a veiled amusement. Peter got the impression that Neal was humoring him, letting him vent without taking any of it to heart, which he found infuriating. 

"Not funny, Neal. If I can't find some way to stop you doing stupid, dangerous things, from going behind my back and hiding things from me, then you become a liability rather than an asset. Eventually you'll do something big enough that I won't be able to keep you here, do you get that? You've already seen what happened, last time." 

It was a low blow, throwing Neal's short stint in prison after Kate's death in his face, and Peter felt a little bad about it but not bad enough that he wouldn't have done it again. Neal's expression froze for a moment, grew tighter and colder and sadder, but smoothed out again quickly into just the right amount of attentive seriousness that would show Peter that he was listening with appropriate gravity. Peter knew better than to believe that expression, and knew that he'd scored a hit. "So, how do you think I can stop you from acting out and risking your freedom and safety, as well as my career?"

“I’m not ‘acting out’,” Neal made air quotes with his fingers, “I’m making well-informed, conscious choices based on years of experience. I’m a professional criminal, Peter, this is what I do. Even in the service of the FBI, going by the book isn’t really my style.”

“Your well-informed, conscious choices _suck_. Especially when they’re also self-destructive, dangerous, bad decisions that are at best only barely legal,” Peter corrected him firmly. “And I think you need a reminder that crossing lines has consequences. You’ve gotten away with too much- I’ve allowed you to get away with too much, and that needs to change. You need stricter limits imposed on you, and I intend to start doing that, as of now.” He stood up and motioned for Neal to do the same. “Come on.”

“Come on where?” Neal rose, but his tone was wary, and he made no move towards the door. 

“My place. You’re coming to dinner, and then we’ll discuss your new boundaries. My wife hasn’t seen me in two days and insists that you’re invited. It’ll be more comfortable to have our discussion there than it will be here, anyway.” Too bad his office had glass walls, Peter thought as he looked down towards the bullpen. It was empty at this hour, but he waited until they reached the elevators, Neal training silently in his wake, before making his next move. As soon as the elevator started moving down he hit the emergency stop button. Neal gave him a sharp, questioning look.

“A little trick I learned from a colleague in DC homicide, who learned it from a friend in another agency. No cameras and no interruptions.” Peter explained, smiling very slightly, “I want to give you something to think about over dinner.” He grabbed Neal by one shoulder, turned him around, pushed him forward and down a little, and landed four hard slaps against his rear with his free hand, in quick succession. Neal’s yelp of surprise was gratifying; Peter so rarely caught him entirely off-guard. Peter put a lot of shoulder behind the slaps, since Neal had the protection of suit pants and presumably shorts under them, and he wanted them to be felt- and it looked like they were. 

The look Neal gave him when Peter let him go was shocked, a little betrayed, and it looked the he was going to say something and then abruptly changed his mind. He didn’t say anything when Peter restarted the elevator, or as they settled into the car. Peter expected some elaborate show of discomfort when Neal sat down, some attempt to guilt him, but none came. Neal was unusually quiet all the way to Brooklyn, though, where he’d normally have filled up the drive with chatter. After they crossed the bridge he did speak.

“We should stop and buy wine.”

It was Peter’s turn to give him a startled look- _this_ was the result of his ‘food for thought’? Neal shrugged one shoulder.

“Elizabeth might like wine with dinner, and I hate to show up empty handed, as a guest.”

“Besides, you think tonight will require alcohol?” Peter challenged, and Neal raised his eyebrows.

“That’s for you to decide, obviously.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” But no answer came, and Peter sighed, rolled his eyes, and stopped at a liquor store, where he allowed Neal to pick the wine and grabbed a few beers for himself. He had no intention of allowing Neal to be tipsy during what he planned for the evening, and even more so didn’t mean to get even a little fuzzy headed himself, but mellowing things out over dinner might help smooth the conversation which would lead to the main event. Besides, he knew El would appreciate it. 

By the time they parked outside his house, Peter was already having second thoughts about what he planned to do. In a way, it would’ve been easier to have Neal argue with him the whole drive home, trying to talk him out of it; him being so quiet was almost unnatural, and Peter, being himself, worried. He didn’t know much about Neal’s childhood, but the little he knew sent his mind down various paths of potential past abuse he might trigger memories of, without meaning to. He knew that anything he could imagine was probably worse than what had happened in reality, but it was in his nature to worry. However, it was also in his nature to follow through on plans, and this one had been in the works for a while. He would do what he planned, unless something truly drastic happened to change his mind. 

El came out of the kitchen to greet them when they came in with a kiss on the lips for Peter and one of the cheek for Neal. Neal himself, after handing over the wine and the bare necessary politeness, knelt down to greet Satchmo with somewhat more fondness than he’d previously shown for him, yet another thing that had Peter on high alert, wondering just what was going on in his CI’s mind.

“Dinner’s almost ready, you two. Get yourselves drinks if you’d like, and set the table?” 

“You heard the lady, Neal.” Peter didn’t draw him away physically, but saying it was enough and Neal stood up. He glanced towards the kitchen, frowning slightly, and moved closer to Peter so he could lower his voice and still be heard. 

“Is this how it’s gonna be?”

“What ‘this’?” Peter played dumb, although he had a fair idea of what Neal meant. Neal gave him an impatient look.

“This- nice, friendly, normal dinner.” He gestured towards the kitchen, quick and tense, and Peter noticed just how tense he was- and knew he wouldn’t have seen it if Neal hadn’t chosen to allow it. He nodded, slowly.

“A nice, friendly, normal dinner first. Then, we talk.”

“And after we talk?”

“After we talk, I talk some more, and you don’t. Probably.”

“El knows?” There was a wealth of meaning behind those two words, and Peter nodded without elaborating. Neal seemed to shrink into himself slightly, and a faint flush rose on his face. “You-” he stopped and shook his head once, “Never mind.”

“No, finish what you were going to say.” Peter was careful to keep his demeanor calm, show no anger (easy, as he wasn’t feeling any) or impatience. Steadiness was the main thing to maintain, here. Neal hesitated, pursing his lips, and shook his head again.

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“I think it matters to you. Don’t l-”

“I’m not lying!” Neal flared, real anger behind the words. “It doesn’t matter, because you’ve already told her. If you hadn’t yet, then my wishing you wouldn’t might have mattered. At this point, my wishes in the matter are clearly irrelevant. They probably always were, though.”

“Stop sulking. She’s my wife, I don’t do things in our living room without telling her. I don’t make plans that could tank my career without consulting with her. She cares about you, Neal, she doesn’t want to see you hurt yourself.”

“‘She’ is also right here, hon. I can speak for myself.” 

Both Peter and Neal jerked their heads around to look at the kitchen, where El stood, holding a spatula in one hand and wearing a slightly exasperated expression. Neal’s blush became more pronounced and he looked away first. “Neal, sweetie, Peter’s right. He couldn’t have done this without telling me, and I’m glad he did. But let’s have dinner first?”

“You’re both out of your minds if you think I can eat, knowing what Peter has planned. Or, more accurately, having only the vaguest idea of what Peter has planned, which is worse.” Neal sounded accusing, and Peter had to concede that being made to wait with only his imagination for company probably counted as cruel and unusual, when it came to Neal. “I’m going to guess none of this is in the FBI playbook of tools for handling your CI. I mean, if we want to be really technical, we could even call it assault.”

El raised an eyebrow in Peter’s direction, “You couldn’t wait until after dinner?”

He shrugged, “I figured in this case showing would be faster than telling. I think it got the point across.”

"It got _something_ across." Neal grumbled, but it was low enough that Peter ignored it. He added, slightly louder, "I'd rather know exactly what's on the menu tonight- other than dinner, of course- while I can still call the DoJ and ask to be sent back to jail instead please." He sounded flippant, but Peter saw genuine worry under the attitude.

“If we’re going to discuss this now, we should sit down.” Peter indicated the sofa, and El sighed and went to turn the oven lower to keep dinner safe while they talked. Neal took the couch across from Peter, keeping as much distance between them as he could without making it entirely obvious, and waited for El to come back. 

“Right. After dinner plans. Explain.” He said while she was still moving in from the kitchen. Peter waited until they were all sitting to begin. 

“I’m going to start with some basics, and we’ll see where it goes from there. First and most important thing- El and I both care about you, Neal. Neither one of us wants to see you back in jail.” Peter was usually terrible at this stuff, and he felt stiff and awkward and wished he had a beer in his hand and a couple more already in him, but he’d rehearsed the words over in his head so often, they flowed anyway. This wasn’t all that different from briefing a witness or questioning a suspect, after all. 

“That’s nice to know.” Neal’s tone was wry, and Peter held up one hand to stop him. 

“Let me talk, alright? Save the smart comments for after I’m done.” When Neal tilted his head down in agreement, Peter continued. “We don’t want to see you back in jail. But, you keep doing things that will eventually land you back there, or worse. You take stupid risks, you take shortcuts, you make bad decisions. And we don’t want to see you hurt.”

“My decisions and risks usually pay off,” Neal pointed out, and Peter glared at him. “I’ll shut up now.”

“Smart idea. You do have those occasionally. Now, I think maybe I’ve been too soft on you. I’ve allowed you to get away with too much, and that’s endangered us both. It’s endangered Elizabeth.” He reached over to squeeze El’s hand, feeling again the cold horror he’d felt when Matthew Keller had taken her. Across from them, Neal looked down.

“I never meant for that to happen. I had no idea Keller’d go that far, you know that- I- I’m sorry about that. I really, really am.”

“We know, sweetie.” It was El who answered, since it was her forgiveness Neal needed; Peter’s had already been given, informally, when Neal was willing to confess to stealing the Nazi treasure, and would be given more fully later in the evening, or so Peter hoped. El reached her free hand to Neal’s, to stroke his arm, “We know. But I think even you can’t deny that even if you didn’t make the initial decision to steal the treasure, the decisions you did make afterwards weren’t the best.” 

Neal shrugged, “They made perfect sense at the time.” He hesitated, then added, “If it wasn’t for Keller, I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same again. It wasn’t my idea to take the treasure, but I’m glad it survived- and I won’t sell out my friends, no matter what you do.” 

“I’m not asking you to. Neal, the treasure and everything that happened after you found it- after you hid it- or someone hid it, I don’t care-” Peter stopped him when it looked like Neal was going to protest again, “all that is just an example of the sort of thing you do all the time. You hide things, you tell me only what works for you, you break the rules that you can’t bend of get around- and that’s going to stop, tonight.” 

“So you’ve said,” Neal nodded once, slowly. He seemed thoughtful. “Why?”

“Why what? Why now, we’ve explained, I think. Because you need something to catch you and drag you back from the edge before you fling yourself over it, and because I’m responsible for you. I need to keep you in line.”

“Yes, I think you’ve made your opinion clear, on that point.” Neal’s tone implied that he didn’t quite share that opinion. “I meant why do it- that way. That is, if that thing in the elevator was a demonstration of your intentions.” 

“It was.” Peter confirmed, “In a way, anyway. A taste of things to come, as it were.” Now El was giving them both odd looks so Peter felt obliged to explain, “I stopped the elevator and- demonstrated. Lightly.”

“That was _light_?” Neal was blushing again, and looking sideway at El, who gave Peter a Look. 

“Really? No wonder you’ve got Neal nervous, honey. But I guess it did make things clear, fast. Don’t ever let Tobias know you used his methods, he might get ideas.” 

“Yeah, no, that’s not going to happen. My friend in homicide.” Peter explained as an aside to Neal, and then continued, “Why that- exactly because it’s nothing official. Completely off the books, just between us three. Limiting your radius or giving you a curfew will only make you bored and resentful, and when you get bored you do stupid things, and putting you back in prison- well, that’s just not an option.” He decided to take a conversational detour, in hope of explaining himself better, “You had almost four years in prison and other than getting a legitimate, official GED, you didn’t take advantage of any of the rehabilitation programs in there.” He had access to Neal’s full prison file, and knew he’d taken several correspondence classes, but no reform programs, no support groups, no therapy. Neal shrugged.

“I wasn’t a violent criminal or an addict, there weren’t really any programs for my type of offenses. Prison doesn’t teach you life skills for the outside, unless we’re talking a life as a menial in some factory. They aren’t really good at rehabilitation, even for my type.” He kept his tone light, but Peter knew that this was a lot of honesty for him. Neal almost never talked about his time in prison, and Peter never asked. 

“That, and you didn’t really want to become a citizen, did you?” Peter challenged, and Neal seemed surprised, then thoughtful.

“I...Not really? I mean, I’ve never been a normal person. I wanted it- back when I was- when I thought Kate and I- it was in my plans. But I never had what you’d call a day job until I took the deal. June’s is the longest I’ve lived in the same place since I was 18, except for prison.” He glanced towards the kitchen, “If this is how this conversation is going to go, I think this is a good time to check out that bottle we brought.” 

“It won’t be much longer, and I want us all clear headed for this.” Peter really wanted a beer, but he already had Neal being honest about his past, and didn’t want to give him time to backtrack, or to put up more walls. “So, you agree that prison didn’t help, and that structure hasn’t been a big part of your life.”

“I guess, yes.” Neal looked down at Satchmo, who’d come to rest right on his feet. “So?”

“So putting you back in isn’t an option. It won’t help you become a better person, a more considerate, less self-destructive person. It won’t help you not land yourself back in jail as soon as you’re off the anklet.” Peter leaned forward, “Neal, look at me.” When Neal looked up, Peter made sure he held his eyes, “This is really important and I want you to keep it in mind- I’m going to do this- I’m going to punish you for going behind my back, for bending the rules or breaking them, for taking risks by going the easy way in instead of the legal way- but it’s not an alternative to prison. If you refuse- and you can get up and walk away, I won’t stop you- I’m not calling the marshals to revoke your deal tomorrow. It’s not a condition, and not an ultimatum. It’s a private extension of your deal, if you want to look at it that way. But the flipside of that is that if you do something big enough to land you back in prison anyway, this extension won’t save you. I’ll fight to keep you out of jail, you’ve seen that, but there are limits to what I can do. D’you understand?”

Neal nodded, but didn’t confirm verbally which meant that it was possible he hadn’t actually understood, but didn’t want to hear further explanations. “So...nothing changes, outside of that particular extension? It’s just between you and me.”

“And El, yes.” Peter nodded. At Neal’s alarmed look El held up a calming hand.

“I won’t participate, for what’s it worth. But I did need to know about it.” She looked at Neal seriously, “You realize that if you two go through with this, Peter’s giving you a lot of leverage over him. A lot of power to harm him.” 

“Yeah...I could say he’s getting the same over me,” Neal replied slowly, but continued before either of them could argue against that, “I know, I know it’s not the same. Hell, you’ve owned me for almost two years, I guess it really is just an extension.” He didn’t sound bitter, only resigned. Peter had expected a lot more of a fight, and to need to justify himself a lot more; this was strange, and once again he felt a buzz of danger, his senses on high alert. 

“Neal-” Whatever it was that El was going to say, Neal shook his head to stop her.

“No, you don’t need to explain any more. I get it. I think I get it, anyway.” He looked up at Peter, and his eyes were oddly flat and blank, “Is it just today, or-?”

“Everything, Neal. Today was just the final straw. It’s for every time you went behind my back, told half-truth and led me to incorrect assumptions, for every step across that line. And every time you do it again, from today on, it’ll be the same, unless you can explain your reasons and convince me it was the right thing to do.”

“Right by which scale?” Neal challenged, looking a little more alive and aware, which reassured Peter. Bargaining he’d expected, as well as hedging and an attempt to gain some kind of advantage- anything other than calm acceptance. “We’ve already established that my standards of ‘right’ don’t really hold up to yours.”

“No, but by now you should know what I consider right,” he replied without missing a beat. “Right by the law, right by the norms and legal conventions that are expected of citizens, not of criminals. I like to think that the past two years have given you a solid introduction to living on the right side of the law. Usually you know what I’d disapprove of, even before you do it, right?”

“Sometimes.” From somewhere, Neal flashed him a playful grin, switching masks, as usual, with a speed that occasionally left Peter dizzy, “Sometimes you still surprise me, Peter.” His tone implied that he appreciated those times when Peter was willing to step around the law lightly, to get the job done- or to turn a blind eye to Neal and Mozzie’s methods, to get his guy, or to keep Neal out of trouble. Peter didn’t let that annoy him, for now. 

“Maybe I do, but most of the time you know exactly how I’d react to certain things, you know I’ll tell you they were the wrong thing to do, but you do them anyway.” When Neal only shrugged in response, Peter went on, “So far, you’ve been solidly in the ‘better to beg forgiveness than beg permission’ school; from now on, forgiveness comes with a price, so if you’re not sure whether I’ll approve of something or not, you’d better learn to ask permission.” 

“And what if I do something, and decide not to ask? Or do something even though I know you won’t like it?”

“Then you’ll be punished.” Simple, straightforward, no loopholes or sub-clauses. “If it’s something that will get you in more trouble than I can resolve, then you go down, and I probably go down with you. If somehow you manage to slip away from official consequences with nothing more than a slap on the wrist, well…” He tilted his head and half-smiled, hoping that he looked more confident about this than he felt, “It won’t be a slap.”

“And it won’t be my wrist, yes, I think I got that part.” Neal nodded shortly. “Big risk.”

“Yeah.” It was a huge risk, and much bigger for Peter than for Neal, in term of their futures, although frankly, if anybody ever found out and decided to trash Peter’s career, chances were pretty good Neal would end up back in prison anyway.

“Sweetie, you have a real chance of being a free man in a few months,” El chimed up, and Neal looked startled- the issue of his commutation hearing had apparently not occurred to him so far. “We want to help you get a solid moral compass before you do, to help you stay within the reasonable limits of the law. The threat of going back to prison is clearly not enough to stop you from doing dangerous things, so...this is a more immediate threat, with far less wriggle room to get out of the consequences of your actions.” 

“Yeah…” Neal didn’t look convinced. “I don’t really respond well to threats, you know.”

“Then call it a promise.” Peter motioned for El to let him take over again. “I promise you that I won’t let you side-step the law, and I won’t let you do anything to screw up the commutation hearing. I _want_ you to be free, Neal, but I also want to be damn sure that you aren’t a risk to yourself or to anybody else, when it happens. Consider this a motivational program.” 

An expression so fast and strange passed over Neal’s face that Peter couldn’t read it, and wasn’t even entirely sure he’d really seen it. “I need to think about this.” 

“Then think, and we’ll go have a nice dinner, and continue this conversation afterwards.” Peter had no real idea what he’d do if Neal flat-out refused; he knew he could order Neal to do it, but that would be abuse and assault and he had no intention of doing that. No, if Neal decided not to cooperate, that would be that, and they’d never discuss it again- and Peter would have to sit there and probably watch Neal self-destroy, sooner or later, and have very little he could do about it short of shipping Neal back to prison. He really, truly hoped Neal would agree to at least try. 

“Okay. Dinner.” Again, the calm acceptance, and Peter’s frustration rose. Not because Neal was doing anything wrong, but because he knew there was something going on in his head, and he didn’t know what it was. He hated not being able to get a read on Neal; it usually ended badly for someone, and there was too much at stake tonight for him to be dishonest. But Peter knew Neal, and knew that the man was an expert at concealing anxiety or anger, and that he did it without even thinking. Asking him for total, complete honesty would be hard, and getting it even harder. Peter sighed and followed his wife and his unruly CI to the kitchen. 

The atmosphere turned lighter- Neal asked El about her day, and things smoothed out almost immediately into just a normal evening at home. Peter noted that Neal filled El’s glass casually, but left his own empty, and drank only juice- as Peter himself did as well. Peter was halfway through his pasta when he glanced at Neal and saw that why he appeared to be eating and talking, constantly with something on his fork, which he was gesturing with, his plate was about as full as it had been when they started. 

“Neal.” His tone made both Neal and El stop and turn sharply to look at him. He nodded towards Neal’s plate, “Not hungry?”

“Not very, now that I think about it. Late lunch,” Neal shrugged slightly. ‘So sweet of you to care, though.”

“I care because you’re lying to me again.” Peter put down his own fork and pinned Neal down with his eyes. He was aware of El’s frown, but this was between him and Neal- he’d apologize for ruining dinner afterwards.

Neal took only a beat to gather himself before his demeanor changed entirely, his body shifting into tightly coiled alertness, chilly and a little distant, more formal than Peter saw him outside the office- the way he was when Peter tried to interrogate him. “I’m not lying to you, I’m following your orders. In doing that, though, I suppose I’m lying to Elizabeth. Sorry.” He saluted her with his fork, after shaking a tomato free of the tines. He didn’t look particularly sorry. 

“I don’t follow.” El was frowning at them both now, and Peter let Neal explain. 

“Peter wanted a nice normal dinner. I’m doing my best to give you one, even though it’s not what I want to do right now. So I’m doing my best impression of normal, happy-to-be-here Caffrey. Apparently it’s not as good as I thought it was.” He gave Peter a dirty look, which Peter answered with a flat stare.

“Next time you try for normal dinner behavior, remember that meals usually involve eating.”

“Hey, I ate. Some.” Maybe five bites. Neal slumped, sighing, “What do you want from me, Peter?”

“You said you don’t want to have dinner- what do you want to do, then?” Dinner was probably a bust at this point anyway. 

“I need to think, I told you. Thinking and pretending to enjoy dinner at the same time isn’t as easy as it sounds- no offense, Elizabeth, I’m sure the pasta’s great, I just-” He gave her an apologetic look, and she shook her head.

”It’s not your fault. It’s Peter being impatient- we agreed to wait until after dinner with everything. But, as the schedule’s already been scrambled…”

“Truth, El- how long has he had this plan in mind?” Neal looked from El to Peter and raised his eyebrows in true curiosity. Despite Peter’s frantic look and gesture, El chuckled.

“About since he figured out who it was who gave him a sucker. But more so since you’ve been working together.”

“Really? Peter, I’m almost impressed. That’s a long time to carry around a fantasy.” Neal winked, and Peter felt a cold anger stir in him. 

“Do _not_ make this into something it isn’t, Neal. It’s not a joke, and it’s not a game, and it’s definitely not any of what you’re implying.” He must’ve looked as furious as he felt, because Neal pulled back sharply and drew into himself.

“Okay, alright, that was out of line. I’m sorry. I- I can’t help it if this isn’t anything I ever thought you’d even suggest, okay? I’m still trying to process this. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. Now, why don’t you go sit outside and think, while those of us who _are_ hungry finish dinner?” Staying in the same room until Neal was done ‘processing’ seemed like a very bad idea, and Neal himself seemed to agree because he nodded quickly.

“That can work. Alright with you, El? You’re the one who invited me.”

“Yes, go.” She made a ‘shoo’ motion with her hands, and Neal headed outside without another word. It wasn’t a cold night to Peter didn’t feel that badly about sending him away. As soon as the porch door closed behind him, Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. 

“This was a terrible idea. But now I can’t not do it, unless he refuses.”

“He won’t refuse.” El seemed very sure of herself. 

“How d’you know?”

“If he was going to refuse, he’d have done it already. He’s still here, and he’s thinking about it, that means he’s open to the idea.” She explained patiently. “Besides, he looked a little surprised that _you_ were up for it, but not shocked about the whole concept.”

“I know, that worries me. What if...I’m opening a whole can of unknown worms, here?” Even after three years of chasing him, four years of trying not to think about him and two years of working with him, Peter didn’t know enough about Neal to feel entirely safe, doing this. “What if I touch on some old trauma and he freaks out?”

“Honey, I think the main danger here is what if _you_ freak out, not him.” She took his hand and stroked her thumb over his palm, soothing. “You’ve thought about this long and hard, and Neal trusts you. You need to trust yourself- your instincts are pretty good, especially when it comes to him.”

“I almost didn’t catch him, just now. We could’ve gotten through dinner and I wouldn’t have noticed he was upset. He hides things without even thinking about it- what if I don’t notice I’m going too far?”

“You won’t go too far. And I think, in this case, he’ll let you know if you do.” This time El sounded less certain, though. “And if he doesn’t, you’ll both learn a useful lesson, I guess.” 

Peter scowled. This wasn’t a lesson he particularly wanted to learn, and he was concerned about Neal’s ability to tease him to anger, as well. He couldn’t do this if he was angry, could never allow anything less than perfect control. 

“Hon, I can see you giving yourself a headache. Stop.” El got up and came to stand behind him, rubbing his shoulders, kneading muscles that were already too tense. “You can do this. You really _have_ been thinking about it for years.”

“Well, he’s been asking for it for years.” Peter grumbled, but felt himself relax under El’s hands. 

“He’s asking for a lot of things, Peter. Some of which you’re already giving him- a solid foundation, a point of reference, someone and something he can rely on. You’re right that he needs boundaries and someone ready to enforce them. But are you really up for that? I’m not trying to turn you off the idea, not at this point, but it’s a pretty big commitment.” 

“I knew it was a big commitment when I agreed to be his handler. Most handlers don’t spend ten to fourteen hours a day with their CIs, you know. This is just...a different way of handling him. I hope to God it works.” Because if it didn’t, he had no idea what would. “That feels good, hon.”

“Good.” Normally a neck rub could turn into something entirely different, but tonight both of them were careful not to get distracted. Peter was still sharply aware of Neal, pacing in the garden like a caged cat. Apparently El was as well, because she huffed a quiet laugh, “He’s a lot more mature than he was when he got out, but he’ll always be a bit childlike, won’t he?” 

“Probably. And I think, if he stops it’ll be a very sad day.” Prison hadn’t done much to curb Neal’s recklessness, arrogance or irresponsibility, nor his irrepressible self-confidence; however, the two years since had taught him some responsibility, Peter hoped, as well as some consideration for others and forethought. Kate’s death had taken some of his confidence and poise away, but Peter didn’t want to see him fully stripped of everything that made him Neal Caffrey. “Besides, if he stops making the occasional reckless mistake, I don’t know that I’ll catch him, next time.” Being a hopeless romantic had gotten Neal caught twice- what would happen now, that he had no one like Kate to run back to? Were his FBI family, and Mozzie and June, enough to keep him grounded and anchored, now? 

Peter was still lost in thought when the patio door opened and Neal came in, his face a little flushed with the chill evening air. “Alright. I’ll do it. Or- I’ll let you do it.” 

Peter sat up straight, and El stepped away from him, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But- do it now, before I change my mind.” There was more to the high color in Neal’s face than just the chill, Peter realized. He stood up but didn’t move any closer yet. 

“If you think you’re going to change your mind about this- halfway through, tomorrow morning, next week- then I might as well not do it.” 

“I’m not really going to change my mind. I give my consent- such as it is, under the circumstances.” Neal waved a hand sharply once or twice, “I just- I’m worried sanity might reassert itself and remind me that I’m giving you permission to- to-”

“Discipline you?”

“ _Spank_ me.” Neal sounded- and looked- utterly disgusted. “It’s humiliating, Peter.”

“Then why let me do it?” 

Neal was quiet for a few heartbeats, and wouldn’t look at him even when Peter tried to catch his eyes. Finally, he replied in a subdued, serious tone, “Because I trust you. And you know me pretty well- maybe if you think it’ll work, it will. And because I’m really sorry for what happened with Keller- and even more for what might’ve happened.” 

An emotion Peter didn’t feel comfortable describing threatened to choke him for a moment, but he took firm hold of himself and nodded. “I thank you for your trust.” He suddenly felt like this was a very important occasion, a landmark event, “And I really hope it works, because I don’t know what else to try. Remember that I’ll always catch you, Neal- and from now on, when I do-”

“Yeah, yeah. So you’ve said, more than once. Are you all talk, Agent Burke?” The solemn moment was over, and Neal was back to teasing. He was trying to force Peter to move faster, and while Peter had no intention of letting Neal dictate events, he thought it’d be better not to let him get too worked up, waiting. 

“No agents tonight, Neal. This is between us, remember? No Bureau. Just us.” 

“Gotcha.” Neal nodded, still too quick. Peter suspected he’d drive himself to some sort of full-fledged freak out if they went on talking, and he held up a hand. 

“Neal, sit down.” When Neal hesitated, Peter shifted to a sterner tone, “Sit down, Neal. Enjoy it while you still can.” Neal grimaced, but obeyed. “Good. Now take a deep breath. Relax.”

“I really, really can’t, Peter.” It was clear he was trying, and just as clear he was failing miserably. “Please- I’ve agreed. What more do you need?”

“Nothing. A moment to finish my drink.” Peter matched action to words, draining his juice. “There.”

“And that’s my cue to take Satchmo out for a nice long walk.” Elizabeth slide around Peter and went to get Satchmo’s leash, “Will half an hour be okay, hon?”

“Better make it a bit longer, just to be safe.” He followed her and kissed her cheek lightly. Neal followed them both with his eyes, not moving from the couch.

“You’re not staying?”

“This isn’t a spectator sport, sweetie.” El gave him a sympathetic smile, “This part is between you and Peter. I’ll be back after you’re done.” Neal didn’t look at all happy, but didn’t comment further as she headed out. 

“You’ve got something to say, so say it,” Peter said when they were both alone. Neal gave him an assessing look. 

“Leaving gives her plausible deniability, which could be useful if anybody ever tries to use this against you. But there’s more than just that to it, isn’t there?”

“For a start, I thought it’d save you some embarrassment,” Peter replied simply, “and also, you might lie to El, hide behind a mask, deflect attention from place that make you uncomfortable- and you might feel like you need to do all that for her sake, or for the sake of your pride, if she’s around. Like you did at dinner.” 

“You’re- what? Worried I’ll put on a brave face?” Neal seemed almost amused. “I’m not a martyr or a masochist, Peter. I’ll let you know if your worst is too much for me.” 

Peter wanted to believe him, but knew he couldn’t- not the first time they did this. Neal wasn’t good at protecting himself from people he trusted and liked, especially when pride was on the line. He knew he’d need to be careful and not take anything at face value, even if Neal appeared to be entirely honest. For the moment, he nodded. “Alright. I take it that dinner isn’t really going to happen tonight?” The only one of them who’d really eaten was El. Neal shook his head. 

“I thought I’m the one who’s supposed to try to postpone this.” 

“And yet, you’re the one trying to rush me along. Any particular reason?”

“I just want to get this over with, Peter. I hate waiting for things. Even bad things. Sometimes it’s even worse for bad things.” For a brief moment, Neal let Peter see just how nervous he was, before his face smoothed out again. “Besides, apparently we’re on a deadline here.”

“We are. Come on.” Peter indicated the stairs, “We’ll use the guest bedroom.” Just in case this went badly- and even if it didn’t- he didn’t want either one of them to have awkward and unpleasant memories of the living room, where Neal spent most of his time when he visited the Burkes’ home. Besides, the spare bedroom had both a bed and a nice armless chair Peter was counting on. Neal frowned, but followed him, again without comment. He really was being entirely too quiet, and Peter wasn’t sure it was just nerves. When they got upstairs, he motioned for Neal to sit on the bed, and took the chair himself. “Few ground rules and some question before we begin- I’m going to need you to be honest with me, Neal. Really, truly honest, with no deflections and no roundabout answers. No omissions. When I ask you a question, I’ll expect a complete answer for once, and if I don’t get one, there’ll be consequences. Clear?”

“Clear.” Neal said shortly, after a silent nod only got a raised eyebrow from Peter.

“Second rule, you just demonstrated- I’ll need verbal answers. Third rule- when we’re done, you stay here for as long as El says you do. No slinking off. Alright?”

“Agreed, but only because El’s more reasonable that you are.” Neal nodded again. One of his feet was tapping nervously, which Peter wasn’t even sure he was aware of. “Anything else?”

“Yes, one more thing- an important thing: no inappropriate jokes. None. I have zero tolerance and zero sense of humor on this, alright? We’re both walking on very thin ice, and if you try to break it by making implications like before-”

“I won’t.” Neal promised quickly, seriously, “I know it’s not like that, really. No jokes, I promise.”

“Good. Then that’s it for rules, I think. You can lose the jacket and tie now, and we’ll keep talking.” He wanted to take away Neal’s defenses, but not all at once. Working up to it might be easier. Neal made a face, but shrugged his jacket off.

“What more is there to talk about?” He reached for his tie and Peter noticed he fumbled at the knot twice before undoing it- a lot more nervous than he was showing.

“Just a couple of questions. Were you spanked as a child?”

“You know my dad wasn’t around, Peter, I’ve told you that.” Neal’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Peter frowned in reply.

“Your mother was, though.”

“Yes, and that’s all you’ll ever find out about her. No, she never spanked me.”

That didn’t mean there wasn’t some other adult authority figure who had spanked Neal, but Peter didn’t press the point. “Were you ever spanked as an adult?”

Neal blinked, opened his mouth, and closed it again with a snap. “New rule,” he said after that momentary pause, “I’ll answer as honestly as I can, but if I refuse to answer something on the grounds of irrelevance or that it might implicate me or others, you accept that and move on.” 

“And I’m guessing you don’t want to answer that question?”

“Yup.”

“Irrelevant?”

“Yup.”

“And if I disagree with you and think it _is_ relevant?”

“Then we’ll agree to disagree, but I’m not answering that question.” Neal sounded very determined, and Peter decided, again, not to push him on it. It might’ve been part of a romantic relationship, or something else, for a con- or, Peter thought with an inward shiver, something that happened in prison and never made it to any personal file. He nodded.

“Very well. Notice that what we just had here was one direct answer and two attempts to deflect and obscure the truth through circular talking, for which there will be consequences in a few minutes.”

“What? I didn’t-” Neal protested, rising slightly, but Peter motioned for him to sit back down. 

“You did, and if you think about it you’ll even notice where you did. I’m not going to force you to give a full and detailed answer to everything, but instead of answering you gave me a deflection and an answer so specific it was clearly incomplete,” he explained calmly. “So, there’ll be consequences.” 

“That’s not fair, Peter. This isn’t an interrogation.” Instead of rising this time, Neal drew back into himself, a hint of fear in his eyes. 

“It sort of is, except for the part where in interrogation I’d expect you to lie, to protect yourself. If you’ve done something wrong, that is - or if I’m not the one doing the questioning. Here and now? I can’t puzzle through every answer you give me and try to figure out riddles and circular arguments, and second guess or suspect everything you say. That sort of thinking is risky for both of us, Neal, d’you get it? I need to know what’s going on with you, and my only way to know that is to ask, understood?”

“Yeah.” It was a sigh more than an answer, but it was all Neal would say on the subject, and he looked away again, his shoulders tense and angry.

“Okay. I think that’s all I wanted to ask,” Peter nodded to himself. “Let’s get started. Take off your pants and shirt, and your shoes. You can keep your socks on if you’re cold.” This was where things might get iffy, the probable point of no return. Neal clenched his jaw, but obeyed, slowly, until he was standing in front of Peter in his shorts and undershirt, hands loose at his sides. He did keep his socks on, Peter noted, with the anklet blinking steadily, and he rose to adjust the thermostat by the door, turning the temperature up a bit. Then he took a seat again. “Come here.” He motioned at his lap. Neal gave him a Look, and Peter raised an eyebrow, “Do I need to draw you a diagram?”

“I’ve seen you try to draw things, Peter.” But Neal still hadn’t moved. Peter sighed.

“This will be a lot more unpleasant for you if you fight me every step of the way. Get over here already.” 

“I was giving you a chance to change your mind, since clearly I can’t change it for you.” Neal moved half a step forward, hesitated, then crossed the rest of the distance between them, “I hope you realize this is ridiculous.”

“It’s traditional.” Once Neal was close enough to reach, Peter caught him by the arm and pulled him down across his lap. If he allowed himself to think about it, it _was_ a little ridiculous, because Neal was just a little too tall for the position, but that only meant that he could brace himself with his hands on the floor. “We’re starting with the consequences for your deflections and omissions just now. It was a pretty small thing, even if it came right after I explained the rules and you said you got them, so the consequences will be pretty mild.” He kept one hand on the middle of Neal’s back to hold him down, even though he thought at this point it wasn’t necessary yet. With his right hand, he landed twenty hard slaps on Neal’s shorts-covered rear, ten on each side. He kept them fairly fast and fairly hard, because while this wasn’t the main event he wanted to make an impression. Neal took them without a twitch, only a quietly released breath when it appeared that Peter was done. “There. How’re you doing?”

“How do you think?” 

Peter immediately slammed his hand down again, four times, harder, “Not an answer, Neal.”

“I’m not overjoyed, but I’m not about to pass out either.” This was said through clenched teeth, probably more in anger than in pain, and Peter accepted it as a reasonably complete answer. 

“Fair enough. Try to save yourself some trouble by answering me the first time I ask, next time?” A sigh was all the response he got for that suggestion, and he reminded himself that breaking the habits of a lifetime wouldn’t be easy. “Alright. Now we’re getting to your actual punishment for your behavior today. Would you like to go over what you did wrong, or shall I just tell you?”

“Whatever you decide,” Neal managed a shrug even face down over Peter’s lap. “I won’t like it either way.” 

At least that was an honest answer. “Since it’s the first time, I guess I’ll tell you. Next time, though, I’ll expect you to list the reasons yourself.”

“Won’t be a next time.” 

“Uh huh. I wish I had your optimism. Anyway, today you went against my explicit orders to stay put and not approach the suspects, you initiated contact without letting any of us know in advance and without waiting for backup, and to prove your sincerity to them you broke at least the terms of your work-release, if not the actual law- and you were in a pretty grey area on the law, too. Do you deny any of that?”

“I didn’t do anything illegal. I saw an opportunity and took it- if we’d continued to take it slow like you wanted, we’d have been at it another week, at least. My way was faster, and the case is in the bag.” Not a trace of guilt or regret in Neal’s voice, and Peter scowled.

“Your way almost got you stabbed or shot, and the only reason the case is ‘in the bag’ is that I scrambled and did a few things I probably shouldn’t have to cover for you!” Peter shook his head, “Do you understand why you shouldn’t have done it?”

“If I look at things your way, I guess I can see why it was a risk you wouldn’t have wanted to take.” Grudging, but it was a start. It was also a deflection, and Peter slammed his hand down on Neal’s ass twice more. “Hey! I wasn’t lying!”

“I asked whether you understood why you shouldn’t have done it, and you turned the answer around and deflected towards me. That’s not an honest answer, Neal. Should be a simple yes or no.” 

“You’re not being fair, Peter,” still calm but with an undernote of impatience. “Assume that I understand why you don’t want me to do it, even if I don’t agree with your reasoning, and that I accept that while I work for you and am your responsibility, I should adhere to your rules. Of course, knowing what you think I should do doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll do it, as proved by current circumstances.”

It took Peter a moment to work through that, but when he did he had to agree that it was an answer- complicated, but not a misdirection. “So you agree that you knew what you were doing was dangerous and that if you asked, I wouldn’t have allowed it?”

“Yes. But I thought the risk was balanced out by the potential gain. And I was right.”

At least he was learning to start with a simple answer before qualifying it. “That you were successful this once doesn’t make you right, and doesn’t make what you did the right thing to’ve done. You knew, going in, that I’d disapprove. Correct?”

“Yes.” 

“And you went in anyway, and I disapprove. Therefore, consequences. For risking the case, because it could’ve been dismissed on a technicality if you’d misstepped, or if we made a mess of things charging in to save you; for risking us, as your backup, and for risk yourself, both your well-being and your freedom, for a pretty uncertain potential gain- and don’t say that you were sure it’d work. There no such thing as absolute certainty.”

“Peter, please spare me the lecture. I’ve already agreed with you and I’m getting a headache being upside-down like this. I can’t believe I’m asking this, but could you please hurry it up?” Now Neal sounded distinctly exasperated. Peter couldn’t help a chuckle, even though he was a little annoyed, just at the tone. 

“Neal, you’re literally in no position to negotiate. I’ll take as long as I like.” But not too long, because El would be back sooner or later. 

“El’s coming back in half an hour at most.” Neal seemed to be following the same chain of thought that Peter was- unsurprisingly. 

“She is. Fine, remember that you asked for this.” Peter kept one hand on Neal’s back, and pulled his shorts down to his knees, ignoring his protest. “What? You didn’t think you’d get the whole thing over your shorts, Neal. I want you to feel this and remember it tomorrow and the next day and probably for the rest of the week. I don’t want to have to do this again for a while, okay?”

“Peter-” Neal tried to wriggle away but gave it up sooner than Peter had assumed he would, “You can’t do that.”

“And yet, here I am. You’re a grown man, Neal, stop whining.”

“I’m not whining. And if I’m a grown man, why am I being spanked like a child?”

“You’re being spanked like a grown man who has a child’s concept of consequences. And as you reminded me, I should get a move on. I suggest you stop talking from here on out.” Peter tightened his hold on Neal and started spanking him for real. 

He kept a steady pace and didn’t build up with lighter slaps, figuring that the earlier spanking was warm-up enough, and also that they were on a schedule, after all. Besides, he really did want Neal to feel it, and even thin shorts had been a form of protection. Peter made an effort to look at what he was doing without letting himself get weirded out by the fact that he had his CI, his partner and friend, sort of half naked and spread across his lap in a way that would get them both into a world of trouble if anybody knew about it. This could end his career and land Neal back in jail, but Peter honestly believed that it would work, and if it worked it was worth the risk. A dry voice in the back of his mind that sounded disturbingly like Mozzie noted the double-standard he was practicing, but he ignored it and concentrated on delivering a swift, hard spanking. He expected Neal to start squirming at some point, but Neal only relaxed more, after tensing initially, and became almost a dead weight across Peter’s lap. He didn’t make a sound, and Peter could see his back rising and falling in steady breaths. It was disconcerting. 

Besides, Peter’s arm was getting tired and his hand was tingling. Neal’s ass had a nice rosy glow to it, but Peter was pretty sure this wasn’t something he’d feel even as long as into the next morning. It was only the beginning. 

“Neal? You still with me?”

“Hm? Yes.” He sounded pretty calm, a little distracted even. 

“Neal!” Sharper, and Neal jerked, a violent twitch than almost had him rolling off Peter’s lap. 

“What?” Irritated, which was actually an improvement on the barely-there apathy before, “I thought you were done lecturing.”

“I was. Get up.” Peter kept a hand on his arm until he was sure Neal was steady on his feet, and studied his face: a little flushed, his eyes a little glassy but not with tears- and he wasn’t doing anything to cover himself up, his hands still loose at his side. “Neal, look at me.” Peter snapped his fingers a few times, “Focus.”

It took several seconds, but finally Neal blinked and looked at Peter like he meant it, “Are we done?”

“No, we’re not done.” Peter was just as irritated as Neal sounded, but also a little confused and concerned. “I’m trying to make sure you’re not dissociating on me or something.” 

Neal raised both eyebrows, apparently somewhere between annoyed and amused, “Dissociating? God. Uh- no offence, Peter, but you give yourself way too much credit. It’s a hand spanking. It’s embarrassing, but it’s not exactly a traumatic experience. Sounds like it might be for you, but I’m actually okay, here.” 

“Why does that not reassure me?” Peter took a deep breath. On one hand, Neal said about the same thing that Elizabeth had, and usually when they both said the same thing, they were right. On the other, none of this explained Neal’s reaction, the fact that his body was doing exactly the opposite of what Peter had expected- and none of it brought Neal any closer to learning a lesson. Peter pushed down the very unpleasant feeling that he was being laughed at; if Neal managed to get him truly angry, if he made it into a game of power, Peter could far too easily abuse his authority and go too far, and he really didn’t want to take that risk. “Okay. Get back down.” His hand had had a rest, anyway. 

“If you’re sure you’re not giving yourself a complex here…” 

Damnit, he needed to prove to Neal that he was serious about this. It wasn’t about a power game but about retaining some kind of authority. It was mainly, Peter admitted to himself, about making this one punishment memorable enough that it would be a long, long time before Neal risked getting another one. Resolve hardened his voice and he noted a spark of recognition in Neal’s eyes, an acknowledgement of his change in attitude, when he said, “I’m sure. Down.” and pulled Neal over his lap. He’d feel his arm tomorrow but this was important enough to be worth it. 

Five minutes later, Neal’s rear was a solid red, Peter needed a break, and Neal still hadn’t made a sound or moved a muscle, just laying there and taking it in silence. It was still damn disconcerting. Peter stopped and sighed. “We both need a break. Up.” Neal obeyed, and Peter studied his face carefully until the younger man looked away. It was a blank mask, with only traces of strain showing through around Neal’s eyes, and only because Peter knew him well and was looking for it. “Go stand in the corner, face to the wall.”

This was unexpected enough that the mask cracked for a moment, into disbelief and a flash of humiliation, but Neal obeyed again, silent and stiff. He face the corner, his shoulders tense for a moment before he visibly relaxed them. Peter honestly didn’t think he was doing it consciously, either. He shook his head slightly. “You’re lying to me, Neal, and I think you don’t even know you’re doing it.”

It was a moment before Neal answered, steady but without the usual spark of humor, “I haven’t even said anything, how could I be lying?”

“You’re lying with your reactions, with your body- and I don’t know that it’s something you can control, but you’re doing it anyway. Let me ask you this- are you in pain?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Too quick, too flippant, and Peter could see Neal flinch when he realized what he’d said, could see his shoulders tense when Peter closed the distance between them and raised a hand, but he didn’t protest or resist when Peter slapped his ass once, not very hard. He drew in a deep breath that only wavered a little. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” Peter squeezed Neal’s shoulder and left his hand there, for comfort. Touching, he could feel Neal was chilled and a little sweaty. “Like I said, I don’t think you’re doing it consciously. Stop before you answer, and think about what you’re going to say, and _try_ , alright? I know it’s not how you normally handle things, but I need you to try.” 

“Okay.” Quiet, and Neal’s eyes were closed, Peter saw. 

“Good. Are you in pain?”

“...Yes.” 

It was the obvious answer, but it was a start. And it was telling that it took him a moment to answer, that he needed to think about it. Peter nodded and squeezed his shoulder again. “Alright. Would you like me to stop?”

This one took longer, but finally Neal answered, and he sounded a bit more like himself, though without that faint trace of humor he’s used before. “I’d be lying if I said anything but ‘yes’, because I’m not crazy and I’m not a masochist. However, if you were to continue, we’re still within the limits of reasonable punishment and not what I’d consider abuse.” 

“There’s a point where you’d consider it abuse?” In fact, Peter was startled to learn that there was a point where Neal _didn’t_ consider it abuse- but he’d agreed to it, as much as he could freely agree to anything, so...Hell, Peter was confusing himself.

“I’m not bleeding. Not permanently harmed. Nothing I’ll need to give awkward explanations for at work on Monday. In the framework of my agreement to allow you to punish me as you see fit, you’ve done nothing I consider unfair or unproportional.” Damn him for being so calm and reasonable. However, Peter could see the tension Neal was no longer hiding, and though his voice was steady, he was definitely subdued. And his criteria for what counted as abuse made Peter a little queasy. He wasn’t sure whether he should continue, but stopping now would probably leave them both feeling frustrated. He had to see this through. 

“Who taught you not to move or make a sound, when you’re being punished?” He didn’t even know what made him ask it, and even as he spoke he knew what Neal’s answer would be.

“Irrelevant.” His face was shuttered. 

“But you confirm that someone did.” 

“Evidence would suggest it, yes. I’ve- never thought about it.” Neal braced for further slaps, which Peter noticed, but he also believed that this was the most honest answer, and after a moment Neal relaxed again. “I- I don’t know if I can not do it, at this point. I’ve- never had to, I guess.” 

“You’d know better than I. It makes it much harder for me to tell how you’re doing, Neal, you realize that?”

“Yeah.” Neal leaned his forehead against the wall, and stayed resting there, “That’s never mattered much, before. How I was doing.”

Whoever it was, if Peter ever got his hands on them...He let Neal’s shoulder go, worried he might be squeezing too hard, letting his anger at this unknown third party show too much. “It matters to me.”

“I know. I’ll try.” 

Peter had known, going into this, that Neal lied as easily as he breathed, and that he was an expert at hiding what he was feeling. He’d seen him mask grief after Kate, boredom and discomfort and pain and guilt, on multiple occasions. He’d thought, if it was just the two of them, Neal might be honest. He’d never considered that lying with his body was a trained response, which he was starting to think it very much was. It meant that if he wanted to continue, he’d need to be a lot more careful- but at the same time, he was a lot more resolved about finishing this right. 

“Stay there, don’t move.” He instructed. He didn’t want to leave Neal alone, and fortunately what he needed was in the closet right there in the spare room, but he’s also glanced at his watch and realized he needed to tell Elizabeth that they needed a while longer. Neal turned his head at the beeping of Peter’s phone. 

“Telling El the coast’s not clear yet?”

“Yes. Did I allow you to turn around? Nose to the wall, mister.” Peter held a finger up in warning, and Neal quickly faced the wall again, shoulders slumped. Peter huffed a breath out and dug around in the closet until he found what he needed. “Alright, turn around now.” 

Neal turned, and his eyes widened when he saw what Peter was holding. “Tell me you sanitized that since the last time it touched a horse. Or anything else.” 

“It hasn’t touched a horse in a decade.” Peter ran a loving hand down the riding crop’s handle, “but I did sanitize it, and oil it.” He’d picked it up from his parents’ house several months earlier, when the idea that physical punishments might be effective with Neal first became more than just vindictive fantasies in moments of extreme frustration. It was old, but well-kept and still packed a hell of a sting. “Bend over with your arms on the bed.” 

Neal licked his lips quickly, looking nervous. Peter saw the mask start to come down, his posture change to relaxed normalcy, and saw him stop mid-change and shake it off, back to worried. It was kind of eerie. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m very sure. Over the bed, no arguing.”

“I wasn’t arguing. I was saying I’m not a horse. Or rather, I’m saying it right now.”

“I’m aware that you aren’t. I think you’ll discover it’s pretty effective when you want to direct people to do as they’re told, too.” The crop was medium length, with a wide leather tongue at the end. Peter had taken time and care to make sure the leather edges were smooth so there was no risk of them cutting the skin accidentally. He swooshed it through the air once, hard, and Neal stopped, swallowing hard, but continued to the bed and bent over it with his forearms flat on the mattress, presenting his ass neatly. “Good.” Peter didn’t set a number and didn’t mean to count- he’d play it by ear, just as before- and more carefully. Even after the pause, Neal’s ass was still pretty pink, so Peter aimed the first stroke lower, across his thighs. Neal hissed in pain, but didn’t move. 

After a few strokes, Peter found his rhythm. He tried to only strike Neal with the leather tab, but his aim wasn’t perfect and more than once he landed the crop itself across Neal’s ass and legs, leaving long red marks on the already reddened skin. This time Neal didn’t force himself to stay relaxed and calm about it, either: he didn’t exactly struggle, but he shifted his weight, grunted once or twice, and his breathing wasn’t as steady as before. It was enough to let Peter know that yes, he was getting through- and he didn’t think Neal was faking any of his reactions. He didn’t think he could get Neal to the point of tears- and had no idea what he’d do if it happened anyway; Peter didn’t do well when people cried. Hopefully it wouldn’t get there.

He kept one eye on the clock, aware that El would be back soon even with the extension he’d asked for. “Neal, d’you understand why what you did was dangerous and reckless? What you risked in doing it?” He asked at last, when he noticed Neal was reacting more often, hissing and grunting in pain.

It took a moment, and cost Neal two more slashes of the crop across his ass, but he did answer eventually, “I understand that it was a risk you don’t want me to take again. And that there’ll be consequences if I do. I agree that it was a risk.”

That...was probably the best Peter could expect, under the circumstances. He nodded to himself, and shifted his position, landing ten hard strokes, with the full strength of his shoulder and even some hip behind them. Neal’s mouth opened in a silent shout of surprise and pain, and when it was over he slumped over the bed, breathing hard. Peter put the crop down carefully and rested a comforting hand on Neal’s shoulder, noting that he was shivering slightly. “That’s it, we’re done.”

“I’m sorry.” It sounded heartfelt enough, Neal’s voice no longer quite steady. Peter felt a surge of some kind of emotion- about the same as earlier, when Neal had said he trusted him- he’d trusted him to deliver punishment, and now he trusted Peter enough to show how it affected him. For a moment, Peter thought he might be able to handle it if Neal cried, after all.

He was still pretty much okay with turning away to put the crop back in the closet and giving Neal a chance to pull himself together without an audience, though. It spared them both the potential awkwardness. By the time he turned around again, Neal’s eyes were dry and his face was composed. “You’re forgiven. For today, for the past two years-”

“For Keller?” Neal cut him off, and there was a note of desperation in his voice. Peter nodded, and saw Neal’s relief at this final absolution. 

“I forgive you, but none of this is forgotten, d’you understand? Taking punishment and being forgiven doesn’t put you back at the zero point. Screw up again, go behind my back, go around the law, step out of line, and the next time will be worse. I- I really hope there won’t be a next time.” Having said all that, Peter sat down on the bed abruptly, feeling drained. “You should get dressed,” he said after a moment of silence, “El’s gonna be here any minute.” 

For a moment Neal looked like the idea of clothing puzzled him, but he blinked and shook his head slightly, then nodded. “Right. Get dressed.” He was still only wearing socks and his undershirt, which appeared to be more awkward for Peter than it was for Neal himself, and despite the nod he made no motion towards his shorts, abandoned by the chair, or anything else. Peter decided to take pity on him.

“Uh, you wanna lie down for a bit? I can throw a blanket over you or something.” Neal was still shivering slightly, and while Peter didn’t think he was cold, getting him warmer was probably not a bad idea. Neal nodded quickly, and Peter got up from the bed and let him crawl in. There was an unusual uncoordinated, even jerky feeling to the way Neal moved, and Peter guessed part of it was pain, and the other- well, some kind of emotional reaction. Lying down with his face hidden in a pillow, Neal radiated confusion even though Peter couldn’t see him expression. “Neal?”

“Mm?”

“What’s going on with you? Talk to me.” He crouched down to be more or less at Neal’s eye level, if he decided to look at him. 

“Do I have to?” Neal still wouldn’t look at him. Peter sighed.

“No, you don’t have to. It might make you feel better, though.”

“Not really.” Dry and uninflected, and Peter thought that it must be a very real struggle between Neal’s constant need to show an unaffected face to the world, and the demand to be honest. He even thought Neal might want to be honest, because constantly hiding and pretending had to be exhausting, but he didn’t want to push the younger man, not just now. 

“Alright. I’m going downstairs, you’re free to come down whenever, or stay here. Remember you’re not going home until El gives you the all-clear.” 

“I remember.” He didn’t sound very happy about that, unsurprisingly. Peter patted his shoulder, feeling awkward, and silently left the room. 

Downstairs, El was already in the kitchen, having come in quietly enough that he hadn’t heard her. Peter guessed his expression gave away enough of how crappy he felt, because the first thing she did was to pour him a shot of scotch, and the second was to hug him, hard. He buried his face in her hair and just let her hold him until he felt less like a horrible human being. It took a few minutes. 

“That bad, hon?” She asked when they finally separated and he slumped into a chair at the counter and rested his forehead on one hand. He nodded into his palm and sipped his scotch.

“Hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I- I don’t know what to do next. I think I might be asking too much of him.” He explained, in as few words as he could, what had happened. He was still staring at the table when El hugged him again, from behind this time, and he leaned into her touch, more grateful for her support than he could express. 

“Want me to go talk to him?”

It felt like a rescue, but also like cowardice; this was Peter’s idea, his risk, his CI- his friend, too, and letting El handle the hard part felt like he was running away from the responsibility, from being held accountable for his actions. “You didn’t want to be involved,” he reminded her. “Are you sure it’s smart?”

“No less smart than anything else you’ve done tonight, hon. And I don’t mind being involved in the aftermath. Neal knows how you get when people around you are upset, maybe he doesn’t want to make you feel guilty or uncomfortable. I’m sure if you give him fifteen minutes he’d be back down here like nothing happened.”

“Yeah, and that’s the problem, because he’d be lying. And even if he actually is alright- and he didn’t look it, El- I’m not sure I’ll believe him when he says he is.” And that was why El talking to Neal was a good idea, because with her there wouldn’t be the dance of just enough honesty to satisfy Peter’s standards but without becoming too vulnerable and awkward. Being honest and open was hard, for Neal more than many others, and Peter knew that and still demanded it- and Neal gave his honesty, more or less willingly. There’d be far less pressure on him, with El. And if El said Neal was alright, Peter would believe her.

His wife knew him well enough to get all that without him having to say it out loud, and he felt her nod once, her hair against the back of his neck. “I’ll go up, then.”

“I’m coming with you,” he turned to face her, and at her slightly reproachful look he ducked his head, “I’ll stay out of the room, but I need to hear it. He won’t tell me specifics because he’s Neal, and you won’t tell me specifics because it’s him and his story to tell, and-”

“And you’re too suspicious-minded,” she tapped a finger on his nose, “but you’re not wrong, as far as that goes. Let’s go, it’s getting late.” 

It was, and even though tomorrow was Saturday, Peter felt the fatigue of the entire week tugging at him. He followed El up the stairs as quietly as he could, and took up a position just outside the guest room door, while El pushed it lightly and went inside.

“Neal? Sweetie?” Peter could see into the room, but he guessed she approached the bed. There was a rustle of fabric. 

“El?” Neal sounded puzzled, but then chuckled, though it sounded strange to Peter. “Peter’s freaking out, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

“Is he right outside?”

“Pretty much.” 

The chuckle turned into a snort of real laughter, and Neal raised his voice slightly, “Control freak!”

“Traitor!” Peter called back, meaning El, and her snicker was all the answer he needed. It meant she didn’t think there was anything to worry about, which immediately made him relax. 

“You just stay outside, though.” Neal added after they all settled down, “If El’s supposed to give me the okay to go home, let her do her part and don’t interfere.” 

“You’re pretty bossy, for a guy with no pants on.” It might be too soon to joke about it, but Peter was almost lightheaded with relief, and didn’t care. 

There was a very brief silence, “...Yeah. El, turn around and close your eyes.” 

“What? Oh.” El didn’t laugh this time, but Peter could hear her smiling. He also heard shuffling, creaking, blankets moving and Neal hissing very slightly, and then the bed creaked again. 

“You can look now.” He guessed Neal had scrambled out of bed, put his briefs back on and got back in, which meant, at the very least, that El wouldn’t get an eyeful- and that Neal was either still chilled, or felt like hiding and made no effort to pretend otherwise, for a change. 

“Alright, now that’s been dealt with, how’re you doing, sweetie?”

“I’m fine. Really, I’m alright.” Neal replied, but there was a note of hesitation- like he didn’t believe himself, or didn’t think he’d be believed. Probably both. 

“You sure? You had Peter a bit worried. Still have.” Peter sneaked a look in the room and saw that El was by the bed, stroking Neal’s hair. 

“I’ve had better days, but I’ve definitely had worse. Peter’s still giving himself far too much credit. And being ridiculous.” Again, Neal made sure his voice would carry outside, and Peter ground his teeth a bit, frustrated. He was still lying to them. 

“I don’t think he is, you know?” Sounded like El was aware of it, too. “I think he knows you well enough to know when you’re hiding things from him- just like he did today. And you know he hates not getting the whole truth.”

“I know. Really well, now.” 

“Tsk. You brought it on yourself.”

“That’s not fair, El. I can’t help it.” Neal’s voice got quieter, but Peter listened harder. “Turns out I really can’t help it. That was unexpected.”

“Threw you for a bit of a loop?”

“Yeah. I mean- it’s- I haven’t had to deal with- with anything like this in a while. Years.” Subdued, but this time Peter had no doubt he was telling the truth. “There are old habits I never expected to still be around. Sort of- thought I’d forgotten.”

“And you didn’t tell Peter, about the times something like this happened before?” El prompted gently. Peter marvelled at her ability to sound so normal and poised. 

“None of his business. He knows too much already.” 

“This is something he would’ve been better off knowing. You, too. Communication is really important when you’re doing- what you just did. I read up on it.” 

“You have?” Neal sounded startled, and Peter was no less so, himself. When had she read up on it, why had she, and what ‘it’ did she mean?

“Yeah, when Peter started sounding like he actually meant to follow through on punishing you. It’s not like he’s managed to keep me separate from his work so far, so I figured I’d best be prepared.” 

“Huh. Have I ever told you what an excellent con you’d have made, El?”

“Stop trying to corrupt my wife, Caffrey!” Peter decided to get involved again, and two near-identical snorts answered him.

“You stay out of it, Peter.” 

“Yeah, hon, I don’t need you protection- or Neal’s recommendations. I’m pretty happy with my current career choice, anyway. And Neal’s deflecting again.” 

“He is. Want me to come in there and deal with it?” The last thing Peter wanted was to punish Neal further tonight, but following through on threats and being consistent was crucial. He wasn’t going to let anything slide, or it wouldn’t be effective- and Peter really, really wanted it to be effective.

“No thanks.” There was a muffled thump and a startled squawk. 

“Ow! _El!_ ”

“Oh, come on, you barely felt that. But I think I’ve made my point?”

Oh god. She’d spanked him. A single slap, over a blanket, but still. Jesus. Peter’s mind shorted out briefly, unable to deal with the concept, and he thumped his head back against the wall, not too hard, and went on listening.

“You’ve made your point,” Neal sighed. “And you’ve read up on...what, exactly? There are academic books on good communications in...informal and somewhat illegal disciplinary arrangements?”

“You’d be amazed. Maybe not books, but articles. And websites. Many, many websites.”

Oh, Peter didn’t want to know about those.

“Don’t ever tell me the details,” Neal seemed to agree.

“I won’t if you don’t want me to, but doing some reading of your own might be smart, if you’re going on with this arrangement. And you still need to talk to Peter.”

“It’s really not important, El,” now Neal sounded tired and resigned. “There’s nothing he can do about this. It’s in the past and I never planned on digging it up, alright?” he thought for a moment, “Would it help if I explained a few things without telling you the whole story? I know it counts as a partial truth, but if we’re sticking to Peter’s rules, I’d prefer it if we stuck to mine as well.” 

That was actually a fair demand, and Peter was trying very hard to be fair here, even though his rules were there to safeguard both Neal’s safety and his own, while Neal’s felt like it could end up hurting both of them, eventually. “Fine by me, hon,” he answered before El had a chance to ask his opinion. “That’s fair.”

“You heard the man. Ball’s in your court, Neal.”

“You’re trying too hard to sound like Peter.”

“And you’re deflecting again. Stop, or I promise I’ll keep up the same standard Peter did.”

“Which would be unfair, since I never gave you permission to hit me in the first place, but if I follow that line of discussion you’ll both think I’m trying to change the subject again, so we’ll get back to it later.” Neal said all that in a rush, without pause for breath, and it took Peter a moment to work through it. By the time he realized what Neal meant, and what it could mean later, Neal was already moving on. “Give me a minute to think, okay?”

“As long as you need, within reasonable limits.” It was a good thing Peter’s mouth was still engaged, because his mind was already whirling with the implications of Neal’s permission not extending to El. After a moment, he decided not to think about it just yet; he was freaked out enough already.

As long as Neal needed turned out to be about five minutes, which they all spent in silence. Peter started to think that he’d fallen asleep when Neal spoke at last. 

“It wasn’t in prison,” he started, which meant he knew Peter entirely too well, “and I wasn’t forced, okay? Let’s just clear that part up, to start with. It was a situation I consented to, although I’ll concede that I was young and not very smart about it.”

Peter started to ask a question, but got no further than opening his mouth before he thought better of. He’d agreed to let Neal explain, and trying to force more information out of him than he was willing to give would be as unfair as it was pointless. Instead, he waited patiently for Neal to continue. 

“Exactly when and who and how long are irrelevant. The one thing that is relevant is that due to the nature of the situation and the persons involved, my keeping absolutely quiet and not moving through it was pretty important, so I learned to do it. Tensing or any kind of movement or noise just made things worse, so I didn’t do that. I guess it stuck.”

He stopped, and El, who unlike Peter was in a position to read his body language, picked up the conversation again. “That’s all you’re willing to tell?”

“It’s the only part of it that’s relevant. The rest doesn’t matter, it’s in the past.” Neal’s voice held a definite, defiant note of finality, as if daring them to push further. And Peter never was one to back down from a dare.

“How did- whoever it was- how did they know not to go too far? How did they know how you were doing?”

“Irrelevant.” Peter didn’t know whether the answer was irrelevant, or Neal’s well-being was irrelevant to whoever had conditioned him like that, or both, and the uncertainty ate at him. By this point he had enough information to make an educated guess as to the identity of the mystery person, and the knowledge that he’d already killed the man didn’t make it any easier to take.

“No more questions, hon,” again El stepped in before he could make that educated guess out loud. “Neal’s right, his rules matter as much as yours, and you’re both a little too unsettled to have this conversation now. Maybe another day.” 

“Fine,” Peter signed. He leaned back against the wall, bone-tired, mentally and emotionally drained. “Okay by you, Neal?”

“I’d be happier if we never discussed this again. And I reserve the right to refuse to answer any more questions.” Neal sounded tired as well. It was oddly comforting that they’d both found it hard. “Just accept that I’m okay and let’s all move on.”

Peter closed his eyes and waited for El to speak, but she didn’t say anything. He heard the bed creak, and opened his eyes again, peeking around and into the room to see she’d sat down on the bed by Neal’s legs. She gave him a miniature shrug and a small headshake, neither of which he was sure how to interpret, as they could mean several things. He pointed at himself and mimed talking, but the response was, again, the ambivalent hand wave of ‘maybe’. If El wasn’t sure about the right thing to do in this situation, how was Peter supposed to figure it out? 

He waited it out, to see whether anybody else had anything to add, but in the end there was one thing he wanted to make really clear, so he broke the silence himself. “Neal- there’s one thing I want you to be sure of, alright? The things that were irrelevant before- your well-being, the limits of how much you can take- they’re very, very relevant now. Whatever the rules were before, there’s a new set of rules now, and you’ll stick to them. It may not be easy, but make the effort. For your own sake.” There was more emotion than he really liked in his voice, and he took a moment to make sure he was entirely steady before he spoke again. “Got that, Neal?”

Neal cleared his throat twice before answering, “clear.” and he sounded suspiciously choked as well. Peter drew in a deep breath and released it slowly.

“Then I think we’ve said everything that needs to be said. Up to you to give Neal the all-clear now, hon.” 

“Neal, take ten more minutes and come downstairs if you feel ready for it.” Peter was looking again, so he saw El stroke Neal’s hair again. Somehow, it didn’t bother him at all. 

“I can come down right now,” Neal suggested, sounding hopeful, but El shook her head firmly.

“Ten minutes. Longer if you need it. Take your time.” She rose from the bed and left the room, dragging Peter downstairs with her. “Now we give him some time to process, hon. And you go outside for a few minutes.” 

“Oh, c’mon…” He didn’t feel like being exiled from his own kitchen. Besides, “You know I won’t let it go until I see that he’s fine with my own eyes. I mean, I trust you, but I’m-”

“A worry-wort, yes,” El sighed and shrugged. “Fine, stay. But try not to interfere, alright? You gave me this part of the evening, let me see it through. I’m going to make tea.” 

Peter would’ve felt better with a coffee, but it was a bit late for it so he made do with one of El’s herbal infusions; making it kept them both busy until the sound of Neal coming downstairs drew their attention. He was fully dressed again, down to his jacket, and reached to take his hat from the table when he was close enough to do so. His hair was a little mussed, but he looked no different from any other evening. 

“Well, do I pass?” he stood in front of El, loose-limbed and nonchalant. 

“Depends- will you be alright going home?” she challenged, and he almost shrugged but stopped the motion in the middle, nodding instead. 

“I’ll be alright going home, and I’ll be alright coming to work on Monday, and I’m not scarred or damaged. I _am_ sorry, Peter, for taking the kind of risks you disapprove of. Can’t promise I won’t do it again, but I’ll...try?” He seemed sincere enough, and Peter nodded tightly.

“Trying is a start. I, on the other hand, can absolutely promise you that if you cross a line again, you’ll find yourself in the exact same position, and for longer this time. Think about that, next time you get ideas about acting independently and not keeping me in the loop.” 

Neal’s shoulders slumped slightly, “I will, believe me.”

“Oddly enough, I do.”

Neal flashed him a mischievous smile, all contriteness gone, and turned to El again, “Am I cleared?”

“You are. Would you like to stay for tea?”

“Uh...no. Thanks, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather just go home. But really, thanks.” 

Peter decided not to make anything of it; they were all tired, and he could see the same fatigue he felt behind the apparently calm in Neal’s expression. He nodded. “I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

“Yup.” Neal was already calling a taxi. 

“Hon…” El gave him a meaningful look, and Peter frowned. She leaned closer and whispered on his ear, “you’re allowed to hug him, you know. You’ve started to reach out and then pulled back three times in two minutes.”

“You have. It’s awkward and impressive at the same time.” Apparently she wasn’t quiet enough, because Neal spoke without looking up from his phone. “I won’t mind if you hugged me.” 

Well, now it was already out in the open…”Then put the damn phone away.” 

Neal did, and while Peter felt damned awkward doing it, he felt better about Neal’s claim of being alright when he could read it in the lack of tension in Neal’s muscles when he gave him a quick, not too hard hug. A manly hug with no excess emotion- or so he told himself. Neal was smiling very slightly when they stepped back from each other.

“Happy now?”

“I’ll be happier if I don’t have to do this again for at least six months.”

Neal snorted, “You’ll never have to do it again, if I can help it.” 

“We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” Peter kept his expression neutral.

The taxi pulled up, and Neal made his goodbyes quickly and shut the door before anything else could be said. El stepped closer to Peter and slipped an arm around his waist, pulling him to her. 

“Think he’ll toe the line for six months?”

“No way in hell,” Peter dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “He won’t last six weeks. But maybe after next time, or the time after that-”

“Optimist,” she snickered, and he had to admit that, just this once, he was.


End file.
